Smile
by CitizenOfHedwigpolis
Summary: "I did it because I hate you. I did it because I love you. I did it because I didn't want you to vanish. Even if I never see you again, won't you at least smile for me?" Based off the song Virgin Suicides by Nem. Rated for creepiness and yandere.


_The room is chilly and bare; unheard voices hang apprehensively in the air, the aura of all those who were detained here before him._

_The mattress is pretty much a slab of material, the blanket can barely be called one._

_Shadows patrol ahead, back and forth, back and forth._

_And yet he smiles._

* * *

My love,

Are you okay, wherever you are? I hope so, as otherwise everything would be in vain.

Don't look so sad: I want to remember you as you were, with that bright grin of yours that I love so much. If I never see you again, will you at least smile for me?

When I close my eyes, your memory dances in my mind— the spark in your eyes, the spring in your step, the laugh I could never hear enough of.

It takes a great weight off my chest to think that this you will always be there: stay like that, won't you?

I'm sorry, but the situation's complicated, and I do wish I could join you, but this is all for the best, isn't it?

I hope so.

Love,

xxxx

.

* * *

Dear,

Do you still remember back when we were still kids? I still do.

Remember how we'd talk and laugh together for hours at the swing set? Remember how you used to defend me against the playground bullies? Remember how we'd share secrets under the old tree behind the school?

Remember how we once made an oath with our blood to be friends forever and ever, no matter what happened to us?

Heh… We were around eight or nine. Your parents would never let you near a knife, and neither would mine, and we couldn't find a convenient shard of glass nearby, so we resorted to biting our thumbs until we drew blood. It was cleaner, I remember you saying, or at least something to that effect, than scraping ourselves on the pavement. Dirty blood can't be used to seal a relationship.

I' d like to pretend that it worked, that it kept us together through the years, but it didn't. It didn't. We drifted apart, then back together, then apart, as old friends tend to do.

But I always treasured our bond, and often— when you weren't there to pick up the pieces of me lying here, there, everywhere— I'd pretend you were there, that I could feel you through the tiny scar I can't even see anymore. Pathetic, but that's how I am. I couldn't even bring myself to tell you this in person. And now… All I have to say is, you gave me love, you taught me what it felt like, and I vowed to keep it forever.

In case it wasn't obvious, I miss you. And it's sad that I can't see you anymore.

Until now, you had always, always been there for me.

But you're safe now, and back now, and no matter how selfish I want to be, that's all that matters.

Love,

xxxx

.

* * *

Love,

My time is running short, I believe, but oddly enough, I'm not afraid.

I remember how I used to be, though. Scared of people and how they'd think of me. Scared of what could happen to what I loved— of what could happen to you. Protective, perhaps.

I suppose, now, there's nothing left to be afraid of. I've fixed it all now, though it took so much.

But even now, the memory of you— _not being yourself_— makes me burn with anger.

Because I _know_ those plastic smiles aren't yours, those girlish laughs are as faked as they can be. Every time I saw you pretend, it hurt.

It wasn't like— like— like you really found any happiness in such pretense. Right?

That's another thing I'm scared of— how quickly people can change. How quickly a white flower can be soiled. I wasn't sure if I really knew the people around me— including you— anymore.

I _couldn't bear _seeing someone as pure as you get corrupted.

I couldn't bear seeing the old you melt away, seeing you laugh with an expression I don't recognize.

That's why I had to do it. I'm sorry I didn't get to say this to you. I'm sorry.

I was too afraid to ask.

Love,

xxxx

.

* * *

My dear,

I wonder. What has happened to you? It hurts, not knowing for sure if you're there or not, but perhaps not as much as fearing that the loss of the old you was inevitable.

Did my plan work, as it should have? I don't want it to all have been a waste.

I wonder what you thought when I did my job. I don't regret doing it. I only regret not being able to do it properly.

I'm really sorry, there wasn't enough time. Otherwise, I would have been able to explain it all to you. Otherwise, I would have been able to watch the blood gush out of your neck until there was nothing left and you were safe. Otherwise I would have joined you on the floor slick with the fluid that gives us life. Otherwise we would be together on our own.

I'm really sorry, for I hadn't been completely honest with you. I hated— and still do— the new you. I knew nothing about her. She wasn't the _you_ I had known and loved.

I hated you. And yet I loved, and still love you.

Because, beneath the changes, there still remains the _you_ who I'd laughed with, shared with, made a pact with— the you who had been mine.

I couldn't let you go. I couldn't let you vanish, couldn't let you fall in love with someone else.

I had to take action.

I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you any of this. I hope you understand.

Love you,

xxxx

.

* * *

_Because, elsewhere, a gavel bangs. Elsewhere, papers are being pored over. Elsewhere, the beeps of a machine fill the lifeless silence…_

_.  
_

* * *

My love,

Are you okay, despite whatever may have happened? I hope so, as otherwise everything would be in vain.

Don't look so sad: I want to remember you as you were, with that bright grin of yours that I love so much. I will never see you again, so will you at least smile for me?

When I close my eyes, your memory dances in my mind— the spark in your eyes, the spring in your step, the laugh I could never hear enough of.

It takes a great weight off my chest to think that this you will always be there: stay like that, won't you?

I'm sorry, but the situation's complicated, and I do wish I could join you, but this is all for the best, isn't it?

I hope so.

Love,

xxxx

.

* * *

_From the files of ***** ****** **********,_

_xx-xx-xxxx  
_

* * *

**A/N: Woot, another story, though one I didn't really intend to put up. But I couldn't resist.**_  
_

**So here's another oneshot for you, based off Len's song Virgin Suicides.  
**

**Intended for school, but submitted in its crappier Filipino form. You could write about anything, they said. So I did.  
**

**Hope you enjoyed! Review, please!  
**


End file.
